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Ho I Jason, Siegfried, Bedivere, Behold the ship that's drawing near 

Thor, Sinbad, Captain Kidd and Nero 1 With mast-perched Me, the conquering hero I 


THE 

BUBBLE BALLADS 

BY 

MELVILLE CHATER 


DRAWINGS BY 
GERTRUDE A. KAY 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1914 







\ 







Copyright, 1913, 1914, by 
The Century Co. 

Copyright, 1913, by 
The Butterick Publishing Co. 

Copyright, 1914, by 
Perry Mason Company 

Published , September , 1914 

























SEP 30 1914 

©CU;i80G10 


CONTENTS 


Page 


The Bubble Blown .... / 

Which is the road to Lap-land, pray ? 

IN THE TOWN 

Umbrellas ..... 5 

Umbrellas, umbrellas , 'way down in the street. 

Guilty Conscience .... 7 

I wouldn 't touch my cereal. 

Choice at Luncheon . . . 10 

When Mary pushes up my chair . 

The Way They Watched . . . 12 

The crowds were all about. 

The Zigglety Pictures . . . 15 

When I've been good as good can be. 

In Praise of Policemen . . . 17 

From my father's office high. 

The Hair-cut Gentleman . . . 19 

cA long way off there came in sight. 

The Auto-sofa . . . . . 21 

Oh, the streets of New York have such wonderful 
sights ! 

Theater-going . . . . . 25 

I always used to wonder so. 


Hero-worship ..... 27 

There's statues in the museum. 

The Great Spirit .... 30 

The Christmas stores from end to end. 

Department Stores .... 32 

When mother shops for yards and such. 

Newsboys ..... 34 

The newsboys are a folly crew. 

The Weather-man . . . . 37 

I've heard there 's an office high over the street. 

An Apology for the Sparrow . . 39 

He's small, he's quick, he's pert. 

Underground Travel .... 42 

'Deep under street and store and park. 

Roller-skating ..... 43 


Sing a song of roller-skates ! Spring is in the land l 

45 
47 
49 
51 
54 


The Homeless 

The country places have no lights. 

The Fairies’ Swing 

bridge across the river twisty . 

The Pleasures of Imagination 

I've got a little motor-car . 

Various Creatures 

To Central 'Park we journeyed. 

The Very Kind Man 

We see a man, my nurse and I. 


Ambitions ..... 56 

If I •were a peanut-man , let us suppose . 

The Wasted Hole .... 58 

Upon the Square across the way. 

The Elevated ..... 60 

Twisty stairs across the way. 

The Tiptoe Lady .... 63 

She stands upon a building tall . 

The Checker-board Hotel ... 65 

Windows, windows , tiny windows. 

The Alphabet of Street-sights . . 67 

cA is for Arc-lamps , in rows through the night . 

Distant Skyscrapers .... 69 

They're tall, they're steep. 

Letter-boxes . . . . . 71 

Upon our corner lamp-post tall a letter-box you'L 
< view . 

IN THE COUNTRY 

The Behavior of Kites . . . 75 

The ireetops sing , the lilacs sway. 

Wheatfield Bay . . . . 77 

I climbed the crooked apple-tree. 

The Sand-man’s Book . . . 79 

On rainy Sundays when I look. 

The Presidential Problem . . . 81 

Said my uncle as he watched me at my play. 


83 


The Lost Hour 

I •wanted so to march the lane. 

The Deep-sea Fishers ... 85 

The good ship Sofa heaves and dips amid the smaller 
sails. 

The Inexperienced Baby ... 87 

My little sister's come ! Hooray l 

The Runaway Name ... 89 

Oh. Tom a lazy boy was he. 

Purring Explained . . . . 91 

Just put your ear to Flossie's fur. 

Almost Asleep ..... 92 

Drowzy, clean and warm I feel. 

Making Calls ..... 94 

Good morning, Mis'er Picture, Sir l 

The All-wrong Day .... 96 

I must stay in. 

Leaf-raking ..... 98 

The cornstalks lean in pointed sheaves. 

Grace before Meat . . . . 101 

God, who dost the sparrow feed. 

Action before Bath . . . . 102 

Ho, now I'm an Injun l Look out for your hair ! 

A Precaution . . . . . 104 

We took the boat to Silver Beach. 

A Dash for the Pole . . . . 106 

The wondrous thing befell last night. 


The Frost Fairies . . . . 109 

On frosty eves when crickets cheep. 

Beautiful Breakfast . . . . Ill 

Oh dear, 1 love my breakfast so ! 

First Love 113 

When first I saw Suzanna Jane. 

The Impolite Fly . . . . 117 

When Mary sweeps the table-scraps. 

A Popular Superstition . . . 119 

In summer-time I've heard them say. 

The Christ-child’s Candles . . . 121 

The lamp, the gas , the Tectric light. 

Sometimes Lonely . . . . 123 

When the blinds are drawn and the tea-things done. 

Belief in Fairies . . . . 126 

I've searched as hard as searcher can. 

The City of Hide and Seek . . 129 

I hid my eyes and counted fair. 

Secret Languages . . . . 133 

Last night I dreamed a tiny elf. 

Treetop Romance . . . . 133 

Ho ! All aboard the Treetop Ship. 

Almost Forgotten . . . . 139 

Out in the world where the dew's undrted. 

The Garden Hose . . . . 141 

I dearly love the garden-hose. 


143 


Banister-sliding 

In every building tall in town. 

The Launching of Ships . . . 145 

cBrook a-swirl through the woodlands wild. 


The Bubble Broken . . . 148 

Of all the grown-up folk we know. 


Fifteen of these ballads first appeared in St. Nicholas ; others 
appeared in The Ladies Home Journal , the Delineator 
and the Youth's Companion; acknowledgment of which 
magazines’ several courtesies are hereby expressed. 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Treetop Romance . 

Frontispiece 

Facing Page 

Umbrellas 

6 

The Hair-Cut Gentleman 

20 

Department Stores 

32 

Roller-Skating 

44 

The Wasted Hole 

58 

Distant Skyscrapers . 

70 

The Behavior of Kites 

76 

The Inexperienced Baby 

88 

Making Calls . 

• . 94 

Leaf-Raking 

100 

The Frost Fairies 

110 

The Impolite Fly 

118 

Sometimes Lonely 

124 

Secret Languages 

134 

Banister Sliding 

144 


\ 






THE BUBBLE BLOWN 

Which is the road to Lap-land, pray ? 

East of the sun and west of the moon. 

Over the hills and far away ? 

Blower of bubbles, ask this boon 

At your mother's knee, whence all roads bear — 
Bear out to Life, ah soon , so soon ! 

What shall I take for my journey there ? 

My gun, my sword and a toy or so 
And one big apple for wayside fare? 

Bathed and benightgowned, face a-glow, 

Empty of hand and barefoot, he, 

Explorer bold of the Road, must go. 

What may the miles to Lap -land be? 

Is it twice as far as a far-flown kite, 

And can I be back in time for tea? 

’Tis worlds away, if I read aright; 

'Twixt dusk and bed-time its gates swing wide 
And you're there and back a fairy's flight. 

What do the walls of Lap-land hide ? 

Kings and castles and rainbow-gold 
And children to play with me, beside? 

All the tales that have e'er been told; 

All the sagas that e'er were sung ; 

All the magics that breathed of old 
In pagan rune or perished tongue — 

Yea, all those ancient simplicities 
Man's first child craved when the earth was young. 
[ 1 ] 


And you’ll come too ? Oh, I want you, please ! 

I, knight-errant, and you my guide — 

For games are better with twos or threes. 

Ah, no! To me is the Land denied. 

Thither only a child may go. 

Pass in, forgetting I stand outside. 

Yet take your basin, your pipe, and blow 
One last big bubble where I may view 
That Land a-swirl in its rainbow glow. 

Oh, how ? Please tell ! And may I see too ? 

Is it kin to the Magic Crystal, pray ? 

What is a bubble ? Now tell me true ! 

Perfect symbol of childhood' s day: 

The wonder-world of the Real-Unreal; 

A gossamer glory that melts away. 

Then here’s my pipe, while we watch and kneel. 

Blow, bubble ! Paint it that he may see. 

(How sorry for stay-behinds I feel!) 

Nay! This my book shall our bubble be. 
Through a childish pipe, man-breathed, shall 
stream 

Your broken pageant of fantasy. 

Go, bubble, tinged by that opal gleam 
Fair and fleeting as dew on grass, 

Frail as the Real yet true as the Dream — 
Shimmer a space ere you fall and pass! 
f2] 






t 


» 


IN THE TOWN 









Umbrellas, umbrellas ’way down in the 
street 

Bobbing along through the rain on feet : 

That’s how they look as they pass below — 

Umbrellas and feet are the most that show. 

Umbrellas, umbrellas, wet pavements and 
me! 

I’m watching for mother to come home 
to tea, 

But how shall I know her, to wave through 
the pane, 

When every umbrella’s the same in the 
rain? 


[ 5 ] 


Policemen, conductors, and pirates, and 
kings 

Are easily told by their trousers and 
things. 

On days like today when the weather’s 
to blame, 

Beneath their umbrellas they’d all look 
the same. 




a 


I’m watching for mother to come home to tea 


)» 






















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































GUILTY CONSCIENCE 

I wouldn’t touch my cereal, 

I rattled with my spoon, 

Till auntie said unless I ate 
She’d call the doctor soon; 

When suddenly a man appeared 
At breakfast-time one day 
And began to paint a picture 
On the wall across the way. 

He was hanging from the housetop 
On a ladder swung in air, 

And the picture that he painted 
Was as big as Herald Square. 

He shifted and he shifted 

With his pots of red and blue. 

And day by day I watched him paint. 
And day by day it grew. 

[ 7 ] 


The picture was a little boy 
A-sitting at his tea, 

With bib, and spoon, and cereal 
And yellow hair — like me ! 

And underneath was printed this — 
For auntie told me so — 

“Eat Jones & Johnson’s Wheatymeal, 
Or else you’ll never grow!” 

It frightened me so horribly 
That, what with auntie’s hints, 

I’ve made a “manly effort” at 
My breakfasts, ever since. 

I’ve grown an inch already — 

You can measure me, and see; 

And now I love my cereal, 

And every one loves me. 

It’s funny when you’re doing wrong 
That some one always knows; 

And some one sent that painter-man 
To paint me, I suppose; 


[ 8 ] 


So now I never scrawl in books, 

Or spit, or tease the cat, 

For fear the man might come again 
And paint me doing that! 




CHOICE AT LUNCHEON 

When Mary pushes up my chair 
And asks at luncheon what I wish, 
She always says — it isn’t fair — 

“ There’s egg or fish.” 

The streets are full of ragged boys, 

My mother says, who starve and beg, 
And never, never get the choice 
Of fish or egg. 

So I must say my blessing-rhyme 
Before they’ll offer either dish, 

To show I’m glad, at luncheon-time, 

Of egg or fish. 


[ 10 ] 


But, still, I’m naughty as can be, 

And frown, and kick the table-leg, 
Because my truly choice, you see, 

Is fish and egg. 



[ii] 



THE WAY THEY WATCHED 

The crowds were all about 
Last night, with fuss and din, 

“To watch the Old Year going out, 
The New Year coming in.” 

They didn’t watch a bit 
So far as I could see, 

But marched around, forgetting it, 

As crazy as could be. 

Oh, such a noisy crowd! 

Such whistles, yells and cheers! 
And gentlemen blew very loud 
On horns in ladies’ ears. 

[ 12 ] 


Such rattles, cow-bells, flings 
Of paper snow in pecks! 

And ladies carried ticklety things 
And tickled people’s necks. 

They teased each other so, 

And beat tin pans, and waved. 

If I did that at home, I know 
They’d say I’d misbehaved. 

Then bells rang long and loud, 

And chimes commenced to play, 

And far-off whistles in a crowd 
Began to boom and bray. 

And through the boom and bells 
Folks shouted all they could ; 

And each one yelled at some one else 
And no one understood. 

And though the noise was grand — 
The best I’ve ever heard — 

I’d rather like to understand 
Exactly what occurred; 

[ 13 ] 




I'd like to walk about 

Through all the fuss and din 
And find just where Old Year goes out 
And where New Year comes in. 





[ 14 ] 







THE ZIGGLETY PICTURES 

When I’ve been good as good can be 
One whole long day of rain or sleet, 
I’m always sent with nurse to see 
The zigglety pictures, for a treat. 

It’s dark inside until, at last, 

A whirring sound begins to go; 

Then on the sheet a picture’s cast 
With people ziggling to and fro — 

Yes, kings and queens and cowboys, too. 
Policemen, fairies, Indian spies. 

All sorts of things I see them do, 

A-ziggling till it hurts my eyes. 

[ 15 ] 


If nurse would just forget my tea 
I’d sit there watching, on and on ; 

But something blows them out, you see— 
And, when it’s dark, where have they 
gone? 

Then out we go to streets and noise. 

It’s white and queer, all roundabout. 
Oh dear, I’d like to be the boys 
Just going in as I come out ! 



[ 16 ] 



IN PRAISE OF POLICEMEN 

From my father’s office high 
Lines of legs for miles I spy — 

Big policemen’s legs in blue 
Marching up the Avenue: 

Legs that swing and swing and swing, 
Hung, you’d say, across a string; 

Yet I’m not at all afraid, 

’Cause I know they’re on parade . 

Once a year to beat of drum 
Up the Avenue they come, 

Heads in air, so proud on view, 

’Cause their uniforms are new. 

[ 17 ] 


That’s the way l feel outdoors 
When new clothes come home from stores 
And my mother walks me where 
People turn to smile and stare. 

Hi, policemen, row on row ! 

I’m your little friend, you know. 

Don t you help me cross the street 
Safely past the horse’s feet? 

Don’t you lift me on the car ? 

Don’t you always tell “How far?” 

If I lost my mother’s hand, 

Aren’t you near to take command? 

Everything policemen know. 

All policemen love me so ! 

They are big and I am small, 

Yet 1 love policemen all. 

When I’m grown I will be good, 

Doing right, as people should. 

Big policemen thus shall be 
Always friends with mine and me. 

[ 18 ] 



THE HAIR-CUT GENTLEMAN 

A long way off there came in sight 
A pole with stripes of red and white. 
So like a candy-stick it stood 
You’d almost think it tasted good. 

We walked inside and found him there, 
The gentleman who cut my hair. 

And there are bottles, cans and jars, 
And chairs like chairs in parlor-cars, 
And picture papers hung on poles, 

And painted cups in cubbyholes, 

And lots of looking-glasses, too, 

That show you different kinds of you. 

The shiny shears went “ peck-a-peck ” 
As cold as ice, about my neck. 

[ 19 ] 


When mother told him, “That’s enough,” 
He fizzed my head with smelly stuff 
And helped me down ; and everywhere 
About me lay my old dead hair. 

And, oh, when everything was through 
I felt so clean and cool and new! 

And 1 was bought a red balloon 
And smelled so fine all afternoon. 

If I could only have my way 
I’d get my hair cut every day ! 



[ 20 ] 



“ He fizzed my head with smelly stuff ’ 





































♦ 















































THE AUTO-SOFA 

Oh, the streets of New York have such 
wonderful sights — 

Such parks, homes and monuments, build- 
ings and lights, 

Such wonderful people, I’m sure you’ll 
agree, 

Including my father, my mother and me! 

Then clamber aboard ere we start from 
the hall, 

For our Sight-seeing Sofa will show you 
it all. 

Aboard, leaden soldiers! And, dolls, in 
you squeeze! 

Make room for a mother with kitty-cats, 
please! 


[ 21 ] 


Aboard, Teddy-bearies! No barking, 
there. Beau! 

I’m the Megaphone Man, I would have 
you to know. 

Come, Jack-in-the-Box! The chauffeur is 
your part, 

And our Sight-seeing Sofa’s just going 
to start. 


On the right you’ll observe mid the 
Avenue’s shops 

The butcher who sells us our bacon and 
chops; 

And, yonder, the Delicatessen you 
see 

Sends cream for my breakfast and jam 
for my tea; 

While, just on the kerb, there’s a stand 
by the stairs 

Where I buy with my pennies bananas 
and pears. 


[ 22 ] 


My Sunday-school’s next, while the 
theater up-street 

Has the fine motion-pictures I’m shown 
as a treat; 

Then yonder’s the path in the Park, where 
I skate; 

And now comes the dentist’s, a place 
that I hate; 

And next is the Bank, where — the pleas- 
antest task — 

They give away money whenever you ask. 

Beyond is the barber who shingles my 
hair; 

The baker’s, which smells so of choc’late 
eclair; 

The house where the engines and firemen 
stay; 

The place where the circus is coming — 
hooray! 

Then factories, wharfage and skyscrapers 
tall, 

Where nothing particular happens at all. 


[ 23 ] 




But now on the kerb, as a tea-time com- 
mand, 

Policeman Eliza is lifting her hand. 

Remember, my hearties, when travelers 
talk 

That you’ve seen all the principal sights 
of New York. 

Then silence the motor, descend one and 
all, 

For the Sight-seeing Sofa is back in our 
hall. 



[ 24 ] 



THEATER-GOING 

I always used to wonder so 

When mother talked of “plays” and 
“scenes, 

But now at last I really know 

What* ‘going to the theater” means. 

I saw it from a car last night, 

And turned and knelt upon the seat — 

That place so wonderful and bright, 

The going-to-the-theater street. 

So long it is, I wouldn’t try 

To tell you half the passing sights; 

And everywhere from street to sky 
There’s lights, and lights, and lights, 
and lights! 


[ 25 ] 


They twirl, they jump, they come and go, 
Those lights of green, of gold, of red ; 

And some make funny words, and some 
Flash winking pictures overhead. 

I’ve thought about it all to-day, 

That magic street, and now I know 

Why grown-up people, as they say, 

Like “going to the theater” so. 

When next they talk the way they do 
Of theaters, and of what to read, 

I’ll let them know I’ve been there, too, 
And liked it very much, indeed ! 



[ 26 ] 



HERO WORSHIP 

There’s statues in the Museum, 

In circle, park and square — 

The only gentlemen at whom 
It isn’t rude to stare ; 

So when I pass a statue-place 
I stare— and sometimes make a face. 

There’s Washington, and General Grant 
And Presidents, of course ; 

And some sit down, and others can’t, 
And some bestride a horse. 

A statue, so I’ve understood, 

You get for being very good. 

[ 27 ] 


Now, when I’m rich as rich can be 
I’m going through the town 
And take a hammer ’round with me, 
And knock some statues down, 

Then put new statues where they 
stood 

Of friends of mine, who’re twice as 
good. 


A statue of my parents dear 
Because they love me so ; 

(But none of Nurse, who tweaks my ear!) 
A statue, too, of Beau 

Because he’s faithful, night and day, 
And barks the bur-gu-lars away. 


Then, statues of policemen kind 
Who clear the way for you; 

Of men who’ll let you hitch behind ; 

A splendid statue, too, 

Of Apple Mary, in the Square, 
Because she gave me, once, a pear. 
[ 28 ] 


A statue of the organ-man 
Who plays for me and Beau ; 

A statue of Miss Kate McCann, 

The nicest cook I know; 

And statues, too, of aunts and such 
Whose birthday presents pleased me 
much. 

Oh yes, for every kindly deed 
I’d raise a statue tall, 

“For being good,” thereon you’d read, 
“To those who’re young and small.” 
And if you ever chance to see 
A very tall one, that’s of me ! 



[ 29 ] 



THE GREAT SPIRIT 

The Christmas stores, from end to end, 
We walked, to choose, and buy, and look; 

And I’d a dollar bill to spend 
On gifts for all, including cook. 

One glimpse I hoped of Santa Claus 
Beneath his load of playthings bent ; 

But I was much perplexed because 
I met him everywhere we went. 

Upon the crowded wintry street 
He stood beside a chimney red, 

And rang a bell, and stamped his feet, 
Expecting pennies, mother said. 

[ 30 ] 




We saw him all that afternoon 

Keep bobbing up in street and square. 

At first I was afraid, but soon 

I laughed to see him standing there. 

And into every chimney red 

I always dropped a cent or two, 

Because poor children must be fed, 

And kindly acts are good for you. 

I think I must have been a dunce 
To be so much perplexed, because 

Of course God’s everywhere at once, 
And it’s the same with Santa Claus. 




DEPARTMENT STORES 

When Mother shops for “yards” and such 
It tries my patience over-much ; 

She is so very slow! 

You see, I have to sit quite still, 

Just jiggling up and down, until 
She says, “ Let’s go.” 

So if she stops to touch or stare 
I drag her past the counters there 
As fast as fast can be. 

Remember, there’s a room of toys 
Not far away, that little boys 
Might like to see. 

[ 32 ] 



“ It tries my patience over-much 




























. 






















































Yet once we’re there, with row on row 
Of playthings staring at me so, 

It’s just the other way. 

She drags me by so fast, I mean, 

And says, “ My dear, 1 think we’ve seen 
Enough to-day.” 

It’s hardly fair, because she spends 
Such hours in buying odds and ends — 

(I wish she wouldn’t do it) ; 

While, let me go among the toys, 

I’d buy enough for twenty boys 
Before she knew it. 



[ 33 ] 


NEWSBOYS 


The newsboys are a jolly crew: 

They do just as they wish to do ; 

All over town alone they stray, 

Yet no one says, “You’ll lose your way.’’ 

They shout and yell all day, these boys, 
Yet no one says, “Do stop that noise!” 
They’re on the streets till after eight, 

Yet no one says, “Come in! It’s late.” 

And they go barefoot when they choose, 
Yet no one says, “Put on your shoes!” 
They needn’t wash their hands or face, 
Yet no one calls it, “A disgrace!” 


Yes, they can be as black as coals, 
And leave undone their button-holes, 
And sleep o’ nights with dog or cat, 
And do such pleasant things as that. 

Oho ! I'd be a newsboy, too, 

And do just as I wished to do, 

And rip, and roar, and roam unkept! 
Indeed I would — except . . . except . . . 

There’d be no Someone then, mayhap, 
To kiss me, take me on her lap, 

To show me picture-books, to fix 
My egg, to tell me tales at six; 

To hug me close when hurt I’ve been, 
To hear my prayers and tuck me in, 
To come in answer when I call, 
Awake at night — no one at all ! 

Then I’ll not shout ; I’ll always mind, 
Be led by hand nor lag behind — 

Be all a gentleman should be 
Since Someone’s very dear to me. 

[ 35 ] 


I’ll do each button-hole, I hope ; 

I’ll wash my hands each day, with soap; 
And for all newsboys I will pray 
Because I’m better off than they. 



[ 36 ] 



:d 



THE WEATHER-MAN 

I’ve heard there’s an office high over the 
street 

Like a nest at the top of a tree ; 

And there lives a man in the cold and 
the heat 

Who says what the weather shall be. 

He prints it in papers, both morning and 
night, 

Saying changeable, rainy, or fair ; 

But how does he know that he’s sending 
what’s right 

When he lives so far up in the air ? 

[ 37 ] 




He ought to come down on the pave- 
ment, I’d say, 

And turn ’round and ’round like a vane 

To see if it’s schooltime or afternoon play 

Before he decides to send rain. 

• 

If / were that man I would make it be 
cool 

Whenever the summer was here ; 

Send warmth in the winter and rain when 
there’s school 

And sun all the rest of the year ! 



[ 38 ] 








AN APOLOGY FOR THE 
SPARROW 

He’s small, he’s quick, he’s pert, 
He’s dressed in common brown ; 

He loves to wallow in the dirt 
In any part of town. 

All mornings, noons and nights 
You’ll spy him everywhere 

A-hopping up to watch the sights 
In street, and park, and square. 

I’ve seen him in the spring, 

In summer, winter, fall ; 

He thinks the town’s the finest thing 
And won’t go ’way at all. 

[ 39 ] 


He sits to take the sun 
Where auto-busses whiz : 

He seems to think that everyone 
Should know just who he is. 

His nest he often makes 
On statues, in the park ; 

And when they pull it down with rakes 
He scolds and scolds till dark. 

And when I’m feeding things 
To creatures, at the zoo, 

There’ll come the flutter of his wings, 
And he’ll be gobbling, too. 

His brothers, though, he hates ; 

With them he never shares ; 

And if they light, he pecks their pates 
And fights them off, and swears. 

Whene’er the fountains play 
He perches on their brim 

And takes the spray, until you’d say 
They’d turned it on for him ! 

[ 40 ] 


Before parades go by 

He’s chattering to the crowd ; 

And when it’s over, down he’ll fly 
To chatter twice as loud — 

And though they give no heed 
He tells it far and near : — 

“ A pretty sort of sight, indeed, 

’Twould be if I weren’t here ! ” 

He guzzles, grabs and steals, 

He fusses and he fights ; 

He won’t make friends, or share his meals, 
Or sleep at home, o’ nights. 

Perhaps when he was small 
His mother turned him out — 

A fact that would account for all 
His naughty ways, no doubt. 

If I’d no mother dear 
I’d grow a wicked man ; 

So I must love the bird, it’s clear, 

And help him all I can. 

[41 ] 



UNDERGROUND TRAVEL 

Deep under street, and store, and park, 

A train goes rushing through the dark. 
There might be sun, there might be rain: 
You’d never know, aboard that train. 

It runs beneath the river wide, 

And lands you on the other side ; 

Yet, strange as it may seem to you, 

The water never tumbles through. 

There’s straps to hang on overhead. 
Whoever’d want to sit, instead? 

I’m made to sit on mother’s lap, 

But when I’m grown I’ll use a strap. 

It’s queer to have a train where none 
Can see the boats and wharves and sun; 
Then, too, upon the ferry-trip 
You play at Captain-of-the-ship. 

[ 42 ] 



ROLLER-SKATING 

Sing a song of roller-skates ! Spring is in 
the land. 

I’ve peanuts in my pockets and my hockey- 
stick in hand. 

Up the slope, and down the slope, and 
roundabout the park ! 

If Nurse would wait I’d roller-skate from 
breakfast-time till dark. 

Ragged boy upon the kerb, I’m glad that 
I’m not you. 

With just a single roller-skate what can a 
fellow do? 

You must have been a naughty boy be- 
fore your Christmas-tree, 

Or Santa must have thought so, ’cause he 
sent a pair to me. 

[ 43 ] 


Roller-skating, roller-skating all the after- 
noon ! 

Time to go ? Now, are you sure it’s five 
o’clock so soon ? 

Wheel we home and kick off skates be- 
sides the hall-boy’s seat. 

Dear, oh dear, I feel so queer — as though 
I’d lost my feet ! 

Gentlemen drive motor-cars ; babies use a 
“ pram ” ; 

Trolleys are for working-folk, where they 
squeeze and jam. 

Ladies ride a-horseback up and down the 
Mall; 

Boys of eight can roller-skate, and that’s 
the best of all ! 



[ 44 ] 



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44 Sing a song of roller-skates ! Spring is in the land ! 


















































































































































































































































































































































































THE HOMELESS 

The country places have no lights 
Nor people on the road, o’ nights. 

The world is dark and silent then, 

And we’re abed by nine or ten. 

But, when in town we came to stay, 

I found it quite the other way ; 

For here, when bedtime’s well in sight, 
The crowds come out and walk all night. 

I watch them from my window high, 
Both men and ladies thronging by 
With cloaks, and scarves, tall hats and 
canes, 

Afoot, in cabs, in cars and trains. 

[45 1 


And I have lain awake to see 
What time their coming home might be, 
But when like lead my eyelids grow 
The crowd’s still passing, far below. 

Now, if the folks who work all day 
Go home to bed, the proper way, 

Pray who are these in hats so tall 
Who never go to bed at all? 

In cities, so I’ve heard it said, 

Thousands have neither room nor bed. 
Perhaps the crowds I’ve seen, who roam 
The streets all night, have got no home! 




THE FAIRIES’ SWING 

Bridge, across the river twisty, 

From our housetop far away, 

When I saw you, faint and misty, 

Like a spider-web of gray — 

Like a loop of cobweb lying 
Far aloft o’er everything — 

Up I jumped and shouted, crying : 

“ Look, oh look ! The fairies’ swing ! 
Yes !— but when they took me to you 
And we walked your length along, 
Bridge, indeed I hardly knew you — 
You’re so great and grim and strong, 
Like an outstretched giant, arching 
High above the river’s track, 

Crowds and crowds of people marching 
To and fro across your back. 

[ 47 ] 


Stacks and masts go slipping under ; 

Tugs and launches, rank on rank ; 

Trucks and trolleys o’er you thunder 
As you bend from bank to bank. 

Giant, don’t you ever tire, 

Want perhaps to turn or sit ? 

S’pose some day you humped up higher, 
Twisted, yawned and stretched a bit ! 

What an awful ending to it — 

People tumbling through the air ! 

Giant, if you ever do it, 

Do it, please, when Vm not there ! 

Yes, I like you altogether 

’Cause, o’er-arching mast and stack, 

There you lie in every Weather 
Bearing crowds upon your back. 

Still, I’d rather not be nigh you, 

Great, big, noisy, crowded thing, 

’Cause I love you when I spy you 
Far and faint — the fairies’ swing. 

[ 48 ] 



THE PLEASURES OF 
IMAGINATION 

I’ve got a little motor car; 

It’s red, and named The King; 
It has a horn, a headlight too; 

It goes likes anything. 

I lean across the steering-wheel 
And pedal with my feet. 

And people turn to stare at me 
As I zip down the street. 

Today I saw a ragged boy. 

His motor wasn’t real, 

But just an empty drygoods box, 
The hydrant for a wheel. 

[ 49 ] 


He sat astride the drygoods box 
And yelled and chooker-chooked. 

He was only playing motor-car, 

But oh, what fun it looked! 

I’d like to be that ragged boy 
To do whate’er I’d choose: 

To sit astride that drygoods box, 
With neither socks nor shoes; 

To hang upon that hydrant and 
To chooker-chook all day. 

Of course I do not mean I’d give 
My motor-car away! 



[ 50 ] 



VARIOUS CREATURES 

To Central Park we journeyed and 
Arrived at where the cages stand ; 

And on the way the squirrels gray 
Took peanuts from my outstretched hand. 

The squirrel’s eye is brown and bright ; 
He holds a nut as humans might. 

He isn’t barred in cages hard 
Because his ways are so polite. 

The mother-lion that we saw 
Prefers her meat quite red and raw ; 

She licks her young with cat-like tongue 
And sometimes smacks them with her paw. 

[5U 


The monkeys know a thing or two. 
They’re such a snatchy, scratchy crew ! 

They hang by tail from bar or rail 
And look you sadly through and through. 

The polar bear gives swings and shrugs. 
I’m glad I’m not the pole he hugs ; 

And, while it’s right to be polite, 

He’s nicest when he’s parlor rugs. 

The tall giraffe we eyed and eyed. 

At times he must be sadly tried. 

Why, just to think how long a drink 
Would take to reach his poor inside ! 

The hippo eats a lot of hay ; 

He’s bathing in his tub all day. 

His mouth sticks out as in a pout ; 

I’d think ’twas rather in the way. 

The elephant ! His great ears grow 
Like fans— the palm-leaf kind, you know ; 

And when he’s hot, as like as not, 

He waves them gently to and fro. 

[ 52 ] 


The rhino is a great surprise : 

His horn is of tremenjous size, 

And from its place upon his face 
You’d think ’twould make him cross his 
eyes. 

Now, though my Teddy Bear looks small 
Besides these beasts, so fine and tall, 

He lets me squeeze him when I please 
And shares my tea, and sleeps with me, 
And so I love him best of all ! 



THE VERY KIND MAN 

We see a man, my nurse and I, 

’Most every day. 

He stands where cars go bumping by 
The criss-cross way. 

A big umbrella’s open wide 
In case of rain, 

And when it clears, he comes outside 
And stands again. 

He offers tickets red and blue 
(Called transfer-slips) 

To gentlemen and ladies who 
Take trolley trips. 

[ 54 ] 


I heard my father say one time 
To Auntie Matt, 

Two slips will save ten cents, a dime — 
Just think of that ! 

Yet no one ever stops to say 
Their thanks or please ; 

They catch the car and roll away 
And squeeze and squeeze ! 

He’s very kind, I’m sure, to live 
Out there all day 

Where cars go bumping by, and give 
Those slips away. 

And so I think that people might, 

Before they ran, 

Say “please” and “thanks,’’ and be polite 
To that kind man. 




AMBITIONS 

If I were a peanut-man, let us suppose, 

Td feed all the squirrels — a bag for each 
nose — 

And eat all I wanted, whenever I chose. 

If I were the druggist, just over the way, 

I’d live upon candy and soda all day 

And treat everybody, with nothing to pay. 

If I wore a fireman’s boots, badge and 
shirt 

I’d wade all the puddles and mess in the dirt 

And squirt all the water I wanted to squirt. 

If I were the man who straps spikes to his 
feet 

I’d shin every telegraph-pole that I’d meet 

And holler at people ’way down in the 
street. 

[ 56 ] 



If 1 were a motorman, just let us say, 

1’d bang on the gong, and I’d zip ’round 
all day 

And bump everybody that got in my way. 

If I had the street-lamps to turn on, o’ 
nights, 

I’d play with the button, and jiggle the 
lights, 

And give the policemen some terrible 
frights. 

Were I a policeman I’d stay up till ten, 

I’d walk on the grass, I’d be kind to poor 
men, 

But I’d scare Mary Jane with my club, 
now and then. 

What fun to be them, as I’m sure you’ll 
agree ! 

Yet I think, after all, that I’d rather stay 
me, 

’Cause I wouldn’t change mothers with 
anyone — see ? 



THE WASTED HOLE 

Upon the Square across the way 
They pulled some houses down, one day, 
And then, as miners dig for coal, 

They dug the finest, deepest hole! 

So wide, so deep, so full of dirt 
And men in overalls and shirt — 

Of all the streets and buildings too 
It was the nicest place I knew. 

Then summer came ; we went away ; 

I dug with spade and pail all day ; 

And when we bade the beach goodbye, 
“ I’ll dig that hole at home,” thought I. 

[ 58 ] 



“They’d spoiled that lovely hole” 































































































. 














































































































































































































































- 

















































But, oh, when we had reached the Square 
A great white building towered there ! 

I cried, as off to bed I stole, 

Because they’d spoiled that lovely hole. 

Such lots of stores and flats, there are, 
Hotels and buildings, near and far ; 

Yet someone went and did his best 
To make that place just like the rest ! 



[ 59 ] 



THE ELEVATED 

Twisty stairs, across the way, 

Rise above the town— 

People climbing up all day, 

People coming down. 

Up and up the twisty stair 
Hand in hand we go. 

See the people everywhere 
Swarming far below! 

Comes the train with sudden din 
Sliding past our feet. 

Quick, and squeeze our way within 
To a window-seat ! 

[ 60 ] 


Pretty pictures through the car 
Stretch, a double row; 

Very kind the owners are 
To amuse us so! 

Snaking slowly ’round a curve, 

See, the whole long train! 

Now it takes another curve — 

Out of sight again. 

Glide we thus o’er street and square, 
Blocks to left and right, 

Sailing onward through the air 
As an airship might. 

Doors and windows slipping by, 
Rooms where people sleep, 

Offices in buildings high — 

Into you I peep. 

Crowds of folk, whoe’er ye be, 

Far below me, there, 

Don’t you wish that you were me, 
Riding in the air? 


Down another stair we go 
To the pavement’s din, 

Gazing back aloft, for oh, 

See how high we’ve been! 

So much fun you find up there, 
’Tisn’t strange, I’d say, 

Crowds should climb the twisty stair 
Up and down, all day. 



[ 62 ] 



THE TIPTOE LADY 

She stands upon a building tall 
A-tiptoe on a golden ball. 

She hasn’t any clothes at all. 

You’ll see her far above the Square, 

A golden lady in the air. 

I wonder what it’s like up there — 

With pigeons floating through the skies, 
And streets and cars so small in size, 
And people swarming by like flies. 

She’s shooting with a golden bow — 

At least, my father told me so. 

There isn’t any arrow, though. 

[ 63 ] 


Suppose she tumbled down some day 
As we were passing by, let’s say, 

And broke to bits and blocked the way ! 

Why, if she’s gold like mother’s rings, 
We’d take some home and live like kings 
And buy a lot of toys and things. 

Still, that, I hope, will never be ; 

She looks so fine where all can see. 
Besides, she might fall down on me ! 



[ 64 ] 



THE CHECKER-BOARD HOTEL 

Windows, windows, tiny windows, 
Windows all alight, 

Heaping high against the sky, 

A-peering through the night — 

Squares of light and squares of black, 

In one great square as well : 

Yes, every night I watch this sight — 

The Checker-board Hotel! 

People, people, crowds of people. 

One to every square, 

As you lay the checkers, say, 

When all the “men” are there. 
Checker-parents, checker-children, 

Clerks and porters, too, 

Stored in Hotel Checker-board, 

I wave goodnight to you. 

[ 65 ] 


Rooms and rooms in thousands, each 
With bed and pillows neat, 

With slippers placed, and dental paste, 
And nightie, all complete; 

Yet, howsoever late I watch, 

The lights are still a-peep. 

Good checker-men, I wonder when 
You ever go to sleep! 

Money, money, heaps of money ! 

Father said he found 
It costs you ten whole dollars when 
You’re there, to turn around. 

But why should you keep turning ’round ? 

Just sit aloft, like me, 

And watch, o’ nights, the passing sights, 
And save those dollars — see? 

Such a lot of checker-folk 
For God to guard at night! 

I wonder if they brushed their teeth 
And said their prayers all right. 

I think I’ll add a piece to mine 
(It might be just as well) 

Before I sleep : “ God bless and keep 
The Checker-board Hotel !” 

[ 66 ] 



THE ALPHABET OF STREET- 
SIGHTS 

A is for Arc-lamps, in rows through the 
night. 

B is for Bargain-sale. Oh, what a sight ! 
C’s for Conductor. “Step lively!” he cries. 
D’s for the Docks where the shipping all 
lies. 

E’s for Electric— car, taxi or fan. 

F is for Floorwalker, such a proud man ! 
G is for Guard on the subway, of course. 
H is for Hansom that’s pulled by a horse. 

I’s for Illumined — the signs near and far. 

J is for Jam when you squeeze on a car. 
K is for “Keep off the grass,” in the.Square. 
L is for L-road that runs in the air. 

[ 67 ] 


M is for “Movies” — such pictures and 
faces ! 

N’s for “No smoking,” in various places. 

O is for Opera that makes such a noise. 

P’s for Policeman, who loves little boys. 

Q is for Questions he answers all day. 

R’s for Red-ball. It means skating, they 
say. 

S is for Skyscraper — oh, so immense ! 

T is for Transfer, which saves you five 
cents. 

U’s for Uptown, where we live in a flat. 

V is for Vendors of fruit, and all that. 

W’s for White Wings, who shovel the 
snow. 


As for X, Y, and Z, — why, I’m sure I 
don’t know. 



[ 68 ] 







DISTANT SKYSCRAPERS 

They’re tall, they’re steep, 

They stand as stiff as rocks — 

All different heights, like houses that I heap 
Of blocks. 

The dots in rows 

Are windows — think of that ! 

The steam on top is like the plume that 
shows 

In mother’s hat. 

I’ve been , you know ! 

Inside a cage I followed, 

And when the floors went tumbling down 
below, 

I swallowed. 

169 ] 









































* 





































LETTER-BOXES 

Upon our corner lamp-post tall a letter- 
box you’ll view. 

I used to love that letter-box, so fat and 
green of hue, 

Because by it, when walking home, our 
street I always knew. 

But once a corner letter-box upon a lamp- 
post tall 

I spied, and ran ahead for home, until at 
nurse’s call 

I found that we were miles away : ’twas 
not our street at all ! 

And now I’m told that lamp-posts tall 

with letter-boxes green 
[71 ] 



On almost every corner in the city may 
be seen ; 

And they say it’s very useful, but I think 
it’s very mean. 

And I wonder, while out walking, at the 
people that we meet ; 

For city blocks are just alike and lead 
astray your feet. 

With letter-boxes everywhere, how do 
they find their street ? 



[ 72 ] 


IN THE COUNTRY 










THE BEHAVIOR OF KITES 

The treetops sing, the lilacs sway, 

The clouds skim by like racing sails. 

I’ve trod the gardener’s beds all day 
Through watching kites with swinging 
tails. 

The kite, when first you take him out 
Upon the hill where breezes swish, 

Will knock his head and flop about 
And wriggle like a dying fish. 

But, give him string, up, up he’ll rise 
To soar at ease from place to place, 

A-wobbling down when daylight dies, 

A smile upon his painted face. 

[ 75 ] 




If Aunt would only watch the kite, 
Perhaps she’d get to understand 
The reason why I fret and fight 
At being led about by hand. 

If she would let me out, instead, 
Across the fields, I’d never fight, 
And end by coming home to bed 
Politely smiling, like the kite. 







[ 76 ] 



“ If Aunt would only watch the kite ! ” 










































. 










. 





























































- 






























































































































































































WHEATFIELD BAY 

I climbed the crooked apple tree 

And pushed aside its leaves, and found 

The wheat-field stirring like a sea 
For miles around. 

If we could spy some fairy boat 

Moored by the fence in Wheatfield 
Bay, 

We’d set the pretty thing afloat 
And sail away. 

We’d skim the rocking waves, and bear 
Far out beneath blue summer skies 

To skirt the little islands where 
Tall hayricks rise. 

L77] 


All afternoon we’d glide and veer 
And lead the swallows in their race ; 

And if it stormed, we’d anchor near 
Some farm-house place 

With pigs and dogs and horses, yes, 
And cooing pigeons, soft as silk ; 

Also, in case of thirstiness, 

A cow for milk. 

Of all the fields, I love this most, 

And then it’s useful, too, you see ; 

For wheat is bread, and bread is toast 
At night, for tea. 



[ 78 ] 



THE SAND MAN’S BOOK 

On rainy Sundays when I look 
For something else to do, 

I get my father’s biggest book 

And read the whole thing through. 

I say each A without a slip ; 

On /, I’m never wrong ; 

And all the other words I skip — 

They are so very long ! 

But I must soon begin, they say, 

To sit indoors ’most every day 
And learn to read the grown-up way. 

I don’t see why, for every night 
His book the Sand Man brings, 

And then I shut my eyelids tight 
And read all sorts of things. 

[ 79 ] 


There are no words to set you wrong — 
A picture-book, indeed ; 

He turns the pages all night long, 

And all night long I read. 

Now, do you think it fair that they 
Should make me sit indoors each day 
And learn to read the grown-up way ? 



[ 80 ] 



THE PRESIDENTIAL PROBLEM 

Said my uncle, as he watched me at my 
play / 

“You will surely be the President, some 
day.” 

Now, it hasn’t happened yet, 

But I’m very much upset 
For fear, when I am older, that it may. 

I will not be the President ! I’ll fight ! 

If they come for me I’ll scurry out of sight. 
Yes, I’ll get behind the coal 
In the cellar’s darkest hole, 

And I won’t come out of hiding till it’s 
night. 

I will not be the President they pick ! 

If they find me I shall tell ’em that I’m sick ; 
[ 81 ] 


And if they say, “ You must ! ’’ 

Then Til wallow in the dust 
And Til squirm, and squeal, and butt, and 
bite and kick. 


1 will not be the President ! Boo-hoo ! 
They will keep me, at the most, a day or 
two ; 

For at night when they’re a-snore 
I’ll unlock the kitchen door 
And I’ll hurry homeward, mother dear, to 
you. 

Though I’d have a lot of fun if I were he, 
They shall never make a President of me ; 
For I’m hardly such a dunce 
As to try two things at once — 

And I’m goin’ to be a bootblack*, don’t 
you see ? 




THE LOST HOUR 

I wanted so to march the lane 
With cap, and gun, and sword ; 

But in I went and watched the rain. 

It poured, and poured, and poured. 

The coal-bin’s such a friendly place ; 

It’s dark, and still, beside; 

So there I crept and hid my face 
And cried, and cried, and cried. 

I thought of all I might have done, 

The flowers I might have picked ; 

I called the sun a mean old sun 

And kicked, and kicked, and kicked. 

I didn’t care for hoops or swings 
Or any toy I owned ; 

I shut my eyes, and hated things, 

And groaned, and groaned, and groaned. 

I «3 J 


I wished that all the world would stop, 

I wished that I was dead ; 

And when I couldn’t cry a drop 
I squealed and squealed, instead. 

But when at last I sought the light, 

For fear that nurse would scold, 

I found that all the world was bright 
As gold, as gold, as gold ! 

The rain had stopped, the worms were out, 
The lilacs swished and swayed ; 

So out I ran, and gave a shout, 

And played, and played, and played. 

I wish I hadn’t sulked all day 
Behind the cellar bin, 

Because the sun came out, they say, 

As soon as I went in ! 




THE DEEP-SEA FISHERS 

The good ship Sofa heaves and dips amid 
the smaller sails, 

And here with string and crooked pin we 
sit and fish for whales ; 

All day we fish with might and main the 
Parlor Carpet Sea, 

For, oh, our larder’s empty, and we must 
get food for tea ! 

What though about our slender craft the 
billows beat and roar? 

What though great, greedy, green-eyed 
sharks infest the parlor floor ? 

Our relatives depend on us, and tea-time’s 
drawing nigh. 

Oh, just suppose, for lack of food, that 
they should up and die ! 

[ 85 ] 



Then, hungry uncles, starving aunts, and 
famished parents dear, 

Who wait us anxiously ashore, we’ll feed 
you, never fear. 

What ho, a bite— a whale at last ! Our 
tiny ship careens ! 

The household’s saved ! There’s food for 
all — this tin of fine sardines ! 








THE INEXPERIENCED BABY 

My little sister’s come! Hooray! 

She’s very red on either cheek ; 

She winky-blinks her eyes all day 

And bubbles when she tries to speak. 
Henceforth I must be kind and true, 

As older persons ought to be, 

And teach her things, and show her too 
Whatever’s good for her to see: — 

The tripping stairs, the pinching doors, 
The corners where I’ve stubbed my toe. 
The sit-down spots on slippery floors, 
And all such things one ought to know ; 
How birds dig worms, and grass turns hay ; 

How Hector buries bones in places ; 
How cows give milk, and poultry lay, 
And mother-cats wash kitties’ faces. 
[ 87 ] 


Good manners too I’ll teach her, and 
Explain what’s swallowed must be 
chewed ; 

How she must cough behind her hand 
And use a push-piece with her food — 

And never use a naughty word, 

And always wash inside each ear, 

And often-times be “ seen, not heard,” 
And blow her nose so none may hear. 

Oh yes, I must be kind and true 

And teach her useful things and such, 

Because she’s ignorant and new, 

And I am old, and know so much. 



[ 88 ] 



“ . . . . She’s ignorant and new, 
And I am old, and know so much ” 

























■ 




. 































































THE RUNAWAY NAME 

Oh, Tom a lazy boy was he ! 

(I tell you what was told to me.) 

He wouldn’t learn his A-B-C 
And couldn’t spell his name. 

Your name’s a little elf, or fay, 

That lives beneath your tongue, they say ; 
Well, out hopped Tom’s and flew away. 
Now, wasn’t Tom to blame ? 

He couldn’t either say or sing 
His ownest name— a dreadful thing; 
Besides, it’s very sad to bring 
One’s dear mamma such grief ; 

And when he heard his friends exclaim, 

“ There goes the boy without a name ! ” 
He’d hang his head, while out there came 
His pocket hand-ker-chief. 

[ 89 ] 



And so to work he quickly set 
And studied hard the alphabet. 

His name new back ; he’s got it yet — 
His tongue will tell you so. 

Perhaps you’ll say you cannot see 
How such a thing as this could be ; 
But still, as it was told to me, 

I thought I’d let you know. 




PURRING EXPLAINED 

Just put your ear to Flossie’s fur 
And listen to her hum and whirr ! 

Ho, / know something you don’t know ! 
What starts and stops a kitty’s purr ? 

My father’s watch, a pretty sight, 

Ticks busily all day and night, 

Yet when too long it lies alone 
The works run down — it’s silent quite. 

He rocks it back and forth a bit 
And then— unless it’s clogged with grit — 
Again the ticking sound begins ; 

And kitty’s just the same as it. 

When on the rug I lay her, so, 

She stops ; the purr’s run down, you know ; 

And when I rock her back and forth 
Once more her works begin to go. 

[ 91 ] 



ALMOST ASLEEP 

Drowsy, clean and warm I feel, 
Smelling all of fresh Castile. 

When I squeeze my eyelids tight 
Lots of stars jump into sight. 

Mice are nibbling in the dark ; 

Rain is falling. Hear Beau’s bark ! 

Where’s the cat I saw to-day 
Stealing tiptoe through the hay ? 

Safe, I hope, on rug or mat, 

Dry and sheltered. Good night, cat ! 

I forgot to pray for Beau. 

God will know I meant to, though. 

[ 92 ] 


















Mush and milk is good for tea ; 

Soon we’ll have some more, maybe. 

First, to-morrow, I shall learn 

What s beyond the brown road’s turn ; 

Then I’ll climb the tallest tree 
With nothing ’twixt the sky and me. 

I am growing very good, 

Always minding, as I should. 


Mother’s touch is soft and light 
When she kisses me good night. 



[ 93 ] 





MAKING CALLS 

Good morning, Mister Picture, Sir ! 
While mother’s making calls on her , 

To call on you, I much prefer. 

That we are them, suppose we play ; 
And I will say what grown-ups say — 
’Twill help to pass the time away. 

I’m very glad you were not out. 

Excuse me while I look about. 

(What! Apples? From your tree, no 
doubt !) 

And how’s the baby ? Don’t you feel 
Relieved ? And did Eliza steal ? 

(Yes, apples are my favorite meal.) 

[ 94 ] 



“ An apple ? Thanks, I think I will ! ” 







T 



















. 












And aren’t you glad you changed your 
cook ? 

And have you read his latest book ? 
(How round and red your apples look !) 

And how d’you like it in this street ? 
And does your butcher sell good meat ? 
(Your apples smell so fresh and sweet!) 

I wish you’d both come up to dine. 

I like your rug much more than mine. 
(Your apples feel extremely fine !) 

I’ve never seen you in that waist. 

Yes, telephone me— there’s no haste. 
(How very good your apples taste !) 

Well, we’ll be starting up the hill. 

Do drop in soon. We’re waiting still. 
(An apple ? Thanks, I think I will !) 



[ 95 ] 



THE ALL-WRONG DAY 

I must stay in ; 

I’ve hit my shin ; 

My gun won’t shoot, my top won’t spin ; 
The rain, they say, 

Has come to stay. 

Oh, everything’s gone wrong to-day ! 

My sword is bent, 

My caps are spent, 

I don’t know where my pistol went ; 

I may not beat 
My drum, nor eat 

The cake that burned (my birthday treat) ; 

Nor slide the floors, 

Nor play at “stores,” 

Nor wear my rubber boots indoors ; 

[ 96 ] 


Nor jounce the cat 
Upon the mat, 

Pretending she’s an acrobat. 

The maids declare 
I’m like a bear. 

I haven’t got the sulks — so there ! 
It’s just the day 
Gone wrong, / say, 

That tries me every kind of way. 


I’m certain, though, 

No grown-ups know 
These all-wrong days that vex one so, 
Or else they’d be 
More kind, you see, 

When everything goes wrong with me. 



[ 97 ] 



LEAF-RAKING 

The cornstalks lean in pointed sheaves, 
Bare branches sing against the blue ; 

The lawn’s a sea of withered leaves 
That shizzle as my feet go through. 

And Mike ahead and I behind 
Are working hard as hard can be. 

Oh, see them whirling in the wind, 

Just like a waterspout at sea ! 

And in I dive ; I jump and twirl, 

Caught up from earth and floating off ; 

And now I plunge where breakers curl, 
Engulfed within the ocean’s trough. 

[ 98 ] 


I sink, I gasp ; for help I’ve waved, 

But Michael will not turn his head. 

Lost, lost in Shizzle Sea ! — No, saved ! 

I m “rescued” — on the flower-bed ! 

And now, a mole, I tunnel deep 
Through leafy darkness, on and on. 

Despite all traps, while gardeners sleep 
I’m raising humps across the lawn — 

Till, coming up, I face the blue 

That’s been aloft this darksome while. 

Just see how straight I’ve burrowed to 
The center of this ’normous pile ! 

Here, wrapped in leaves from foot to head, 
Who cares what frost or snow may do ? 

I’m Bruin making up his bed 

To sleep the whole long winter through. 

At last our leaves are heaped, and show 
Against the dusk in jutting peaks, 

Like Indian wigwams, row on row, 
Whose smoke ascends in coils and 
streaks. 


[ 99 ] 


They catch, they blaze ! The camp’s 
aflame ! 

And I, the hostile chief, Red Cloud, 
Steal, crawling slyly, on my game, 

To whoop the war-cry long and loud ! 

Too soon the war-dance ends ; too soon 
The blaze is sunk in smouldering gray. 
Up rakes, and homeward by the moon ! 
A fine day’s workioe’ve done to-day ! 



[ 100 ] 



<4 


And now I plunge where breakers curl, 
Engulfed within the ocean’s trough ’ 


'.ti 














































































































• • 














































































































































































* 








































































GRACE BEFORE MEAT 

God, who dost the sparrow feed, 
Bless this fare that fills my need. 

Like the sparrow with his food, 
May I find Thy bounty good ; 

May I, as he chirps with glee, 

Lift this little grace to Thee ; 


May we both, when meal-times fall, 
Feel Thy love is over all. 



[101 ] 



Ho, now I’m an Injun ! Look out for your 
hair ! 

My paper-knife scalper I brandish in air ; 

I’m dancing in circles, I’m shrieking with 
glee, 

And I’m just as naked as naked can be. 

And now I’m a boxer stripped bare for 
the fray. 

A shower of blows, and I’m off and away, 

On guard with my fists and half-crook’d 
at the knee, 

And I’m just as naked as naked can be. 

And now I’m a grizzly, all-fours on the 
rug. 

Be warned by my growling, beware of 
my hug ! 


[ 102 ] 


Cooks, nurses and housemaids could never 
tame me, 

And I’m just as naked as naked can be. 

Slam-bang with the towels, the soap and 
the sponge ! 

I kick and I paddle, I splash and I plunge; 

I’m a shark, I’m a whale, I’m a big man- 
atee, 

And I’m naked as naked as naked can be. 

Skirts, pants and pajamas are useful, no 
doubt, 

And you must wear your kilts when 
there’s callers about ; 

But just before bath-time, I’m sure you’ll 


agree, 

It’s fine to run naked as naked can be. 



[ 103 ] 


A PRECAUTION 

We took the boat to Silver Beach, 

And on the way I ate a peach ; 

And when I’d sucked the peach-stone dry 
I kept it. Do you wonder why ? 

The paddles, churning in the sun, 

Made suds, like washing being done. 
When we had come to land at last 
My hand still held that peach-stone fast. 

But just before we went to wade 
I took my bucket and my spade 
And knelt upon the beach alone 
And dug a hole, and hid that stone. 


Suppose I’d thrown it overboard 
And waded on it afterward ? 

It might have made my ankle bleed 
And hurt me very much indeed. 






A DASH FOR THE POLE 

The wondrous thing befell last night 
As I lay sleeping. 

To-day the world lies brilliant-white 
With snowdrifts heaping ; 

No tiniest track on lawn or stoop — 
Man’s, dog’s, nor kitten’s. 

Along our drive the pine-trees droop 
Fat, snowy mittens. 

What ho ! My boots, toboggan cap 
And gauntlets, Norah ! 

Goes hence, yon Arctic shores to map, 
The young explorer. 

[ 106 ] 


Our dog-train — I, my sled, and Beau — 
Strikes boldly forward, 

Knee-deep through trackless wastes of 
snow, 

For farthest nor’ ward. 

By smothered bush and shrub o’erspread 
We sledge securely. 

Yon mounds upon the flower-bed 
Are snow-huts, surely !— 

No ! Polar bears — a hungry crew ! 

Bang — bang ! They’re slaughtered ! 
Now load them, as we hunters do, 
Skinned, cured and quartered. 

The garden hedge — true northward line 
We still have followed — 

Now sinks, nor leaves the faintest sign, 

In snowdrifts swallowed. 

Lost, floundered, fallen in a heap, 

Strange warmth o’ertakes me. 

I drowze, I sink to deadly sleep, 

But Beau awakes me. 

[ 107 ] 


On, on afresh, each muscle strained 
Toward certain glory ! 

At last our winter camp is gained ! 

(The conservatory.) 

Starvation threatens — awful dread 
Wherewith to grapple ! 

No — saved ! See, hanging overhead, 

A winter-apple ! 

Ha, lonely clothes-post looming nigh, 
Askew and cranky ! 

Won is the pole — wherefrom shall fly 
Our proud clean hanky ! 

Now Southward Ho ! We’re home once 
more. 

Cross, Norah’s look is 
At worms of water on the floor — 

Our prize, three cookies. 



[ 108 ] 



THE FROST FAIRIES 

On frosty eves when crickets cheep, 
Their watch the winter fairies keep, 

And by the light 
Of moonbeams white 
Weave silver laces while I sleep. 

Yes, when the daylight comes again 
I find they’ve worked with might and 
main ; 

For frills and stars 
And crinkly bars 

Make curtains on my window-pane. 

[ 109 ] 


The wintry sun, uprising red, 

Must think that I’m a sleepy-head : 
He melts away 
The curtains gay, 

For fear I’d lie all day in bed. 






. . . . weave silver laces while I sleep ” 










BEAUTIFUL BREAKFAST 

Oh dear, I love my breakfast so ! 

I wonder what I’d do without it ! 
And often, as to sleep I go, 

I think about it. 

When things look dark on every hand 
And I feel lonely and forsaken, 

I think about next morning and 
My egg and bacon. 

Oh yes ! And I have wondered some 
At breakfast-time, about my betters. 
Who always seem so cross and glum 
And eat while reading stupid letters, 
[in I 


For, while I do enjoy my tea 

And luncheon, too, beyond all doubting, 
Whenever breakfast’s brought to me 
I feel like shouting ! 



[ 112 ] 



FIRST LOVE 

When first I saw Suzanna Jane 
Asleep behind the show-case pane, 

I wondered how a doll could be 
As wonderfully fair as she. 

They offered me a box of bricks, 

A clown that did all sorts of tricks, 
A monkey, and a watch and chain. 

I cried, “ I want Suzanna Jane ! ” 

Before they’d time to interfere 
I snatched her up and held her near ; 
And so they gave a funny smile 
And let me keep her for awhile. 

She wore a dress of goldy brown, 
Her eyelids seesawed up and down ; 
She had the slimpsey kind of looks 
The princess has in fairy-books. 

[ 113 ] 


But lady-dolls aren’t meant for boys, 
Who ought to play with manlier toys ; 

So once, when I was at my tea, 

They hid Suzanna Jane from me. 

I searched for her the livelong day. 

They only said, “ She’s gone away ” — 
Which sounded rather strange, you know, 
Because we loved each other so. 

I wouldn’t play with balls or kites ; 

I lay awake for nights and nights 
And in the darkness sobbed and tossed, 
For oh, Suzanna Jane was lost ! 

And now, when I am eight to-day 
(And growing tall, I hear them say), 
With things like older fellows show — 
Real tools that cut and trains that go — 

And roller-skates and water-wings 
And lots of other grown-up things — 
High on a shelf I’ve often passed 
I find Suzanna Jane at last ! 

[ 114 ] 


She doesn’t look the same to me. 

(I used to think her real , you see.) 

Her nose is chipped, she’s lost some hair ; 
Her feet are plaster, 1 declare ! 

Her lids no longer lift and fall ; 

She will not look at me at all ; 

And when the speaking-place I squeeze 
“ Ma-ma, Ma-ma ! ” is all she’ll wheeze. 

Oh, long, Suzanna, for your sake 
I wept as if my heart would break. 

I searched and searched— you know I did — 
But still you hid, and hid, and hid. 

Well, now I’m old, and taller, too, 

With lots of grown-up things to do. 

And yet I hate to say goodbye . . . 

I’m eight to-day, and mustn’t cry ! 

Perhaps if I should put you back 
Aloft within your closet black, 

Some day I’ll find you as before, 

All wonderful and real, once more. 

[ 115 ] 


Ho ! Now I m off to play with boys 
And make all sorts of fun and noise ! 


I hope that no one saw me when 
1 kissed Suzanna Jane, just then ! 



[ 116 ] 





THE IMPOLITE FLY 

When Mary sweeps the table scraps 
She hates him buzzing ’round ; 

He breaks my uncle’s evening naps 
Till Uncle says, “ Confound ! ” 

And horses, when he ’lights, begin 
To stamp their feet and shrug their 
skin. 

He walks the pictures, chairs and lamps, 
He lights on hand or shoe ; 

He tries the taste of postage stamps, 

Of evening papers, too ; 

And when I take a picture book 
He thinks it’s smart to come and look. 

I’m sure he has no little wife, 

Nor children, nor a home. 

It seems a very happy life 
To skip and buzz and roam ; 

[ 117 ] 


Yet no one wants to let him live 
Because he’s so inquisitive. 

So up we jump, enraged at last, 

And chase him everywhere ; 

But when you think you’ve got him fast 
He’s circling through the air ; 

And Auntie beats the window- 
screen, 

And Uncle slaps the place he’s been. 

In fact, he’s so afraid of all, 

When bed-time draws anigh 
He’s perched far up upon the wall, 

Or else the ceiling high ; 

And there he has to sleep all night 
Turned upside down. It serves him 
right. 



[ 118 ] 



“He’s circling through the air ” 


























































































































































































































. 



































































































































A POPULAR SUPERSTITION 

In summer-time, I’ve heard them say, 
Comes, every year, the longest day ; 

And when the snow and ice appear 
The shortest day is always near. 

Yet any child can see at once, 

Unless he calls himself a dunce, 

That long and short, without a doubt, 
Are just the other way about. 

For when there’s birds and cows and toads, 
And bubbly brooks, and friendly roads, 
Such lots to do, such heaps to see 
Between your breakfast-time and tea ; 

[ 119 ] 




When trees against the sunset-flames 
Begin their shadow-dancing games 
And you are called to leave your play 
In summer — that’s the shortest day ! 

But when the snow is deep without 
And icebergs glue the water-spout ; 
When parcels come from everywhere, 
And you must neither touch nor stare ; 

When all your toys look old and queer 
Because to-morrow’s almost here, 

With p’raps a rocking-horse, we’ll say, 
For Christmas — that’s the longest day ! 



[ 120 ] 



THE CHRIST-CHILD’S CANDLES 

The lamp, the gas, the ’lectric light 
Were made for picture-books at night. 
The candle, different by far, 

Was made to show how old you are. 

For on all birthday-cakes appear 
Red candles, one for every year; 

And when they die, in case of doubt, 
You count them as you blow them out. 

And so upon the Christmas tree 
The Christ-child’s candles you will see. 

A tree with toys for children’s sake 
He has instead of birthday-cake ; 

[ 121 ] 



And there a world of candles glow — 
The Christ-child lived so long ago; 
Yet no one counts them up, since He 
A little child will always be. 



[ 122 ] 



SOMETIMES LONELY 


When the blinds are drawn and the tea- 
things done 

And the firelight-dance begins. 

And it seems so hard to be born just one, 
I make up a game called “ Twins.” 
Yes, I see you smile through the 
flames at play, 

Little friend Someone, far away. 

And from over the ridge of the purple 
hills 

As I sit, some nights, at tea, 

The distant note of a bugle shrills, 

And I think it s your call to me ; 

So I wave at the west, as if to say 
“Goodnight, little Someone, far 
away ! ” 


[ 123 ] 


There’s ever so much that I’d like to 
know : 

If you hate long Sundays, too ; 

If you’ve a rake, a spade and a hoe — 
’Cause I’d lend mine all to you ; 

What cake you like and what games 
you play, 

Little friend Someone, far away. 

You re lonely, too. (Oh, you must be 
that, 

Or it wouldn’t be fun, or fair !) 

And I play that your nurse is cross and 
fat, 

And you hate her to brush your hair. 
And please love fairies and caves 

and hay, 

Little friend Someone, far away ! 

Some day when it’s blowy and bright 
and blue 

I’m sure you’ll come walking by. 

You’ll know I’m I, and I’ll know you’re 
you, 


[ 124 ] 



<< 


Yes, I see you smile through the flames at play, 
Little friend, Some one, far away ” 














































































































































































































































































































































































And I think that we’ll both be shy. 
Oh, I wish to-morrow might be that 
day, 

Little friend Someone, far away ! 






BELIEF IN FAIRIES 

I’ve searched as hard as searcher can, 
Since yesterday, for Peter Pan 
Through orchard, lawn and woodland dim ; 
I’ve even called aloud to him 
By hayloft, brook and garden-plot, 

To come and play — but he will not ! 

I’ve tried to teach our dog since noon 
To carry doses in a spoon, 

Snap on and off the ’lectric light 

And fold my bedclothes down, for night ; 

To turn my bath on, steaming hot, 

As Nana did — but Beau will not ! 

I’ve tried to shake my shadow free, 

But still it always sticks to me. 

[ 126 ] 


Oh, how I’d love to find it gone, 

To rescue it, and sew it on 
With Wendy’s help, upon the spot. 

As Peter did— but I can not! 

I’ve tried to fly from bed to bed, 

But only jump, and fall, instead, 

While there’s the window waiting wide, 
Could I but rise and float outside 
Off, off with Peter, like a shot. 

The Darlings did, — but I can not ! 

When on the floor a sunbeam fell 
I played ’twas fairy Tinker Bell ; 

But though I called and danced around 
It lay quite still, nor made a sound. 

Now, Tinker flashed from spot to spot 
With jingling talk— but it would not ! 

I’ve also played our colored cook 
Was horrid, hidjous Captain Hook; 

Our clock — to scare the pirates vile— 
The awful Ticking Crocodile ; 

The lilac bush, my Treetop Cot. 

I play they’re real, — but oh, they’re not ! 

[ 127 ] 


“ Believe in fairies ? ” Now confess, 

I jumped and waved and shouted “YES ! 
So, Peter, kindly prove I’m right 
By flying to my room to-night, 

To teach me all the tricks you’ve got — 
Or I’ll begin to think I’m not ! 




THE CITY OF HIDE AND SEEK 

I hid my eyes and counted fair 
Beside the big gray stone, 

Then hunted for them everywhere, 

But I’d been left alone ; 

And though perhaps I am “ too small,” 
It’s late, and lonely, too ; 

And she ran off, just like them all, 

And I’d cry, if no one knew. 

Yet I seek and seek while the day- 
light wears, 

But nobody answers and nobody cares 
That I’m playing at hide-and-seek. 

[ 129 ] 


Oh, Cloudland’s heaped with peak and 
dome 

Ablaze by Sunset Sea ! 

It always seems to whisper : “ Come ! 

Into the west, to me ! ” 

Its gateways open on the deep 
Where float the Rose-pink Isles, 

And all its children wake from sleep 
When the big white star first smiles. 

You may seek and seek in the maps 
and books, 

But / know its name from the way 
it looks : 

It’s the City of Hide and Seek. 

Its houses are of sunset rays, 

Its streets of rainbow gold — 

A criss-cross, tangled, red-roofed maze, 
As old, as old, as old ! 

Such twists and turns ! Such hiding-nooks ! 

Yet all the while you know 
What’s coming next — as in fairy-books 
Read to you, long ago. 

[ 130 ] 


And you seek and seek, but you 
must be quick, 

For the light dies soon, like a burned- 
out wick, 

In the City of Hide and Seek. 

And there you find them, fresh and gay, 
The toys you’ve wanted back, 

The ones you broke or threw away 
Because of scratch or crack. 

And there the children aren’t unkind ; 

You’re not “too small” to play; 

And there she'd always stay behind 
When the others ran away. 

And you seek and seek till you hear 
the shout 

Of “All in home ! ” and the lights 
go out 

In the City of Hide and Seek. 

My city’s crumbling ! Black and cold, 
It’s sunk in Sunset Sea. 

How dark and still ! (At home they’ll 
scold.) 


[ 131 ] 


Ugh ! What’s beside that tree ? 
What ! You? You’ve watched my city, 
too, 

Hid by the broken wall ? 

You stayed behind ? Oh, I’m glad it’s you, 
’Cause I like you best of all ! 

Is the city, itself, just hid, you’d say ? 
If we seek and seek can we find the 
way? 

What fun if we met somehow some 
day 

In the City of Hide and Seek! 



[ 132 ] 



SECRET LANGUAGES 

Last night I dreamed a tiny elf 
Popped up beside my bed, 

And when he’d introduced himself 
Three funny words he said ; 

And back and forward through my head 
The words have danced all day : — 
Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty — 
Isn’t it fine to say ? 

Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty — Oh! 
Isn't it fine to say ? 

The Indians and Eskimos, 

The Turks and Japanese 
Have words a-plenty, I suppose, 

That mean the same as these ; 

But here’s a language, if you please, 

[ 133 ] 


Meant just for me and you : 

Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty— 
Isn’t it nice and new ? 

Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty— Oh ! 
Isn't it nice and new ? 

Let’s practice up a little while, 

Then say it everywhere ; 

And how we ll wink, and nudge, and smile 
When people turn to stare ! 

So can you keep a secret ? There ! 
Come close — I’ll tell you true : 
Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty — 
Yes indeed I do ! 

(Kiggetty, Quobbitty, Gubbitty means 
I — love — you /) 



[ 134 ] 



iteil 




pStil*] 




“ Kiggetty, Quob bitty, Gubbitty means 
I — love — you ! ” 


































































































W • 






































































































































































































































TREETOP ROMANCE 

Ho ! all aboard the Treetop Ship ! 

Aloft the summer breeze is wailing ; 
Our anchor’s up, our hawsers slip, 

And ’round the world we’re smoothly 
sailing. 

Goodbye, old house, old garden, too, 
With Sarah’s Monday wash a-drying ! 
I’m lookout-man amid the blue, 

And overhead the clouds are flying. 

Our gravel walks, so flat and neat, 

Like slender brooks seem half in motion. 
Hurrah ! There’s China at our feet, 

And yonder the Atlantic Ocean ! 

[ 135 ] 


Ho ! Reef our sails, you men behind ! 

We’re far upon the angry billows — 
No sound except the singing wind 
And Martin beating rugs and pillows. 

Avast ! A whale upon our right ! 

Look sharp, my boys — harpoons and 
tackle ! 

Japan and India rise in sight. 

(Another egg ! That’s Granny’s cackle !) 

Yon pines, the Urals, hide a sea — 

The Medit- — something. From our 
doorway 

The drive winds ’round to Italy 

Behind the hedge, near Spain and 
Norway. 

The clothes-lines’ sheets of ice and snow 
Our gallant bark has left behind her 
For jungles African — where Beau 
Is barking at the organ-grinder. 

And now we’re where the maps are bare — 
Green, empty space— north pole — 
Sahara. 


[ 136 ] 


See yellow Asia, over there, 

Where Martin’s stopped to talk with 
Sarah ! 

Now Bagdad nears, Valhalla’s plain; 
Now Greece, with heroes, gods and 
Argoes ; 

Now Arthur’s Court, the Spanish Main, 
And pirate junks with slaves for 
cargoes. 

Ho ! Jason, Siegfried, Bedivere, 

Thor, Sindbad, Captain Kidd and Nero! 

Behold the ship that’s drawing near 
With mast-perched Me, the conquering 
hero — 

Who’ll rescue maidens, succor kings, 

Free slaves, put monstrous beasts to 
slaughter — 

Ay, cloud your fame by doing things 
Unparalleled on land and water. 

And if, because your envy stirs, 

Ye bar my path with sword or trunch- 
eon, 


[ 137 ] 


I’ll fight ye single-handed, Sirs ! 


Oh dear ! There goes the bell for 
luncheon ! 



[ 138 ] 



ALMOST FORGOTTEN 

Out in the world where the dew’s un- 
dried 

And the dogwood’s white in the sun, 
With my breakfast feeling so good inside, 
And a whole day more to run ! 

Isn’t it fine how sunlit days 
Go on and on, and nobody pays ? 

The birds are twittering in the skies, 

The bees go bumbling past ; 

The sun’s blood-red when I close my eyes, 
And the brown road’s won at last ! 
Isn’t it nice how far roads reach, 
With something new at the end of 
each ? 


[ 139 ] 


Why, which is the tooth that stung and 
throbbed 

All night, till the skies turned gray, 
While I twisted, and tossed, and moaned, 
and sobbed ? 

It seems like a dream to-day ! 

Isn’t it queer how toothaches go ? 
Oh, golden world, but I love you so ! 



L 



THE GARDEN HOSE 

I dearly love the garden-hose 
When skies are bright and blue. 

He sprinkles all our flower rows, 

Our vegetables, too. 

I love him ’cause his fizzy spray 
Makes rainbows o’er each bed ; 

I love him ’cause when Mike’s away 
He’ll squirt for me, instead. 

I love him for the pansy plots 
He saves from summer heats ; 

I love him most for raising lots 
Of spinach, beans, and beets. 

[141 ] 


But, oh, when afternoon is fled 
And twilight’s in the air, 

When I must cross the lawn to bed, 
And see him lying there — 

A long, black, squirmy, coiled-up thing 
So silent in the gloom, 

I wish that I could give one spring 
Inside the sitting-room. 

I think of boa-constrictors— those 
That clutch you for their prey ; 

And then I hate the garden hose 
And wish he’d go away ! 



[ H2] 



BANISTER SLIDING 

In every building tall, in town. 

An elevator takes you down. 

It swoops you from the topmost floor 
And lands you gently near the door. 

But in a country-house’s hall 
No elevator’s found at all, 

But only stairs, up which you climb 
To wash your hands at dinner-time. 

Yet stairs have something very good : 

A banister of polished wood. 

You sit upon it, legs astride, 

Then hold your breath, let go, and slide ! 

[ 143 ] 


Ho ! Going down ? (I’ll show you how) 
Our elevator’s starting now ! 

Sit steady, while the rail you hug — 

No stops until we reach the rug ! 

Ker-swish . . . ker -bump . . . and here 
we are — 

One swoop to earth from— see how far ! 
And like the elevator, too, 

My breath goes “Ha-a-ah ! ” when all 
is through. 

A real one, though, I’d love to run. 

It’s mean that country homes have none, 
And that they’re all in cities — when 
They’re run by colored gentlemen. 

It’s meaner still, I’ve often thought, 

That country stairs are made so short ; 
While city buildings, oh, so tall, 

Have got no banisters at all. 

When I am rich I mean to buy 
A building twenty stories high 
With banisters both steep and strong, 
Down which I’ll slide, the whole day long. 

[ 144 ] 






























. 






. 



















































































































































THE LAUNCHING OF SHIPS 

Brook, a-swirl through the woodlands 
wild, 

Threading the patches of shriveled 
snow. 

Sing me your secret this morning mild — 
Whence do you flow ? 

Hark to the chiming of freshets 
gray: 

From over the hills and far away! 

Clouds, adrift o’er the rain-washed earth. 
Heaping the depths of the pale young 
skies, 

Tell of the land where your flock had 
birth — 

Where did you rise ? 

[ 145 ] 


And the whisper stirs in the tree- 
tops’ sway : 

Over the hills and far away ! 

Birds a-twitter and buds a-smile, 

Smells afloat as the breeze drifts in — 
Oh, but I’ve missed you, this wintry while ! 
Where have you been ? 

Echoing elves, I hear ye say : 
Over the hills and far away ! 

Earth, a-thrill in the April air, 

Far blue hills where the snow-streaks 
lean, 

Read me this message from everywhere — 
What does it mean ? 

Oh, something sings in my ears 
all day : 

Oi;er the hills and far away ! 

Is it a snatch from some tale I love ? 
Some dream forgotten ? Some song I 
know ? 

The haunting spell that some princess wove 
Ages ago ? 


[ 146 ] 



Is it an air that the elf-pipes play — 
Over the hills and far away ? 


Brook, I kneel by your moss-hung tide 
To launch three chips of a fallen tree. 
Hence, and search o’er the whole world 
wide, 

My stout ships three. 

Then turn ye back— if return ye 
may — 


From over the hills and far away! 



THE BUBBLE BROKEN 


Of all the grown-up folks we know, 
How many men would stop to blow 
A bubble, like this friendly man 
Who floats one up between us — soP 

How big and clear ! I’ve never seen 
Such pretty stripes of pink and green. 

Oh, see how fast they’re racing round 
W ith little oily whirls between ! 

Its colored patches look 1° me 

Just like a schoolroom globe should be; 

And there’s my face beside your face 
Afloat upon a purple sea. 

Ah, now it’s golden ! That’s the worst. 
Because you’re so afraid ’twill burst. 

How old it’s grown, how wonderful! 
Quick, then, let’s see who’ll catch it first. 

Why, all I've caught is just your hand! 
Do bubbles go to fairyland ? 

Perhaps some day we’ll journey there 
And find them all, and understand. 

BD 7.4 


[ 148 ] 




































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